


the shape of everything you need

by mochroimanam



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Canon Queer Relationship, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/F, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochroimanam/pseuds/mochroimanam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima and Delphine go looking for more information about the creators of the clones on the shaky legs of their renewed relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. consider the hairpin turn

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place directly after the season 1 finale. Title & chapter titles from Richard Siken's _You Are Jeff_. 
> 
> Written for Asexual Awareness Week for the prompt 'stories about ace people realizing they’re ace.'
> 
> Dedicated to my wonderful ace partner West, who is not only the shape of everything I need, but helped very much in encouraging me to write this.

Trust that’s been broken doesn’t snap back so easily, can’t be programmed neatly into place like the lines of genetic code on the laptops in front of them, and although Cosima’s been clinging to Delphine for the better part of an hour, there’s still a part of her that’s shrinking away. Delphine’s still holding her tightly, her hands resting on Cosima’s ribs, and Cosima tastes blood in the back of her throat and tells herself she deserves this comfort even as a fresh rush of suspicion overtakes her. 

She pulls away.

Concern is etched so deeply in Delphine’s eyes that it makes Cosima ache in her skull and sternum, makes her blink and break the gaze, and Delphine’s hands are unsure now as they slide away from Cosima’s back, leaving cold spots against the wool of her shirt. “Cosima?” Delphine asks, and the way her voice is slightly higher than normal, the way it trembles on her tongue makes Cosima want to kiss her so that she can’t say it again, because her name in Delphine’s accent pulls at the stitches of her resolve.

Cosima can’t stop staring at Delphine’s empty hands now, the way they tremble on her thighs; it’s clear enough Delphine’s guessed what it going through her head, how steps forward doesn’t necessarily mean trust mended and Cosima doesn’t want to—can’t risk herself like this. When she’s just found out that there’s foreign ownership in the very _make of her genes_ —a ragged breath and one of Delphine’s hands turns, like she wants to reach up to touch Cosima’s face, but she doesn’t. Cosima doesn’t know if she’s disappointed. Her throat is still thick with tears and her lungs feel ominously heavy, chafed; her muscles have been stiff as glass since she realized who Delphine really was. 

“You should go,” Cosima says without thinking, still staring at the minute twitching of Delphine’s fingers, and she doesn’t need to be looking at her face to see the pain in it—it’s vehemently clear in the way Delphine exhales, like she’s got a steel bar pressing slowly into her diaphragm.

“Cosima.” It’s worse, the second time, the way the tremble in Delphine’s voice is becoming more pronounced—a fissure splitting her from vocal chords to belly, the painful vulnerability of it. “Look at me, please?” 

She very nearly doesn’t. Very nearly stands up, words all ordered in her head like the ending of a novel, closed off and regal and ice in her eyes. But the fact that it’s a _question_ —allowing her to still have the power, allowing her to choose—makes Cosima meet Delphine’s eyes, though she keeps her own guarded. 

Delphine looks like a chest of drawers that’s been thrown open, rummaged through, disassembled. Face raw, dark hollows beneath her eyes, and a new edge to her expression—not desperation, like she’d had before Cosima threw her out, but something much more open. There’s quiet acceptance alongside the fear and uncertainty and confusion, a solidity that makes its home in the line of Delphine’s mouth (giving Cosima the urge, once more, to kiss her there) and gives the next words she speaks more weight. 

“I’m asking for nothing more than to stay here with you.” Delphine’s gaze is strong and steadfast, and she reaches out slowly, fingers brushing Cosima’s and cradling her hands. “I know—I know it is unfair of me. But please, let me show you. That I am not theirs.” She raises Cosima’s hands to her mouth, and Cosima lets her, sitting stock still and impenetrable even as the feel of Delphine’s lips brushing her knuckles makes her shiver. “I am not theirs anymore.” She presses one of Cosima’s palms against the side of her neck, pulse fluttering hot against Cosima’s cool fingers, spelling out the continuation of the words she’s not saying aloud.

Cosima is still, carbon dioxide trapped toxic and heavy in her lungs, as she listens, and thinks, and _feels_ , feels all the things Delphine doesn’t need to speak out loud in the trembling of her hands and the drum of her heartbeat, and she feels herself moving out over a void, just barely balancing on a rope stretched across doubt and betrayal—until it snaps and she leans forward, lips finally pressing hard against Delphine’s, and the tiny gasp in the back of Delphine’s throat and the way her body flows liquid and pliant against her own makes Cosima feel like she’s soaring instead of falling. 

Cosima breaks away, breath coming quick and heavy and warm against Delphine’s collarbone, and she closes her eyes and decides to believe. “Alright,” she murmurs, and Delphine’s arms wrap back around her, the relief is nearly tangible. For both of them. “Alright.”

~~~

Sarah is pacing. She’s been pacing since the moment she got to Felix’s flat, moving off-balance like a bird of prey with clipped wings, body visibly tense and radiating the panic of a childless mother. Cosima clenches helpless fists against her thighs, her mind speeding through potential courses of action and only finding dead ends, but maybe if she could just—another tearing cough rips at her throat and lungs and Delphine already has a tissue held out to her by the time it’s finished. Cosima takes it and wipes at her mouth, tasting copper and salt.

Sarah makes a frustrated noise like an animal in pain and throws herself down onto the couch next to Cosima, fingers gripping her temples. “We. We have to—” 

Cosima reaches out to touch Sarah’s shoulder in comfort, but she hesitates, drops her hand back to her lap. Too volatile. 

Sarah breathes like it’s painful. “You need to go. Get out of the city and get somewhere where they can’t find you.”

As if somewhere like that exists. “How is that going to solve _anything_? Sarah, we can help you. We can—”

Sarah springs back to her feet, whirling on Cosima. “We can’t do a _goddamn_ thing,” she bites the words out in chunks of acid, hands twitching at her sides. “They _have_ her and we’re powerless and their fucking _property_ —” She shuts her eyes and takes a gasping breath and Cosima’s chest tightens in sympathy. She starts to speak, but Sarah holds up her hand, silencing her. “Look. Together we’re a bigger, more valuable target. If we split up, we’ll at least make it a bit harder for them to get at us.”

Cosima leans forward, meeting Sarah’s eyes. Leaving now seems cruel; with Kira taken and the definitive proof that their—their fucking _owners_ can’t be trusted, Sarah needs the help more than ever. But she also has a point. “Okay. Alright. But where should we—I mean, should I—” Cosima stumbles, suddenly breathless, and looks at Delphine. 

Delphine takes Cosima’s hand in hers, cradling it like it’s something easily broken. “I would be glad to go with you. If you’ll have me.” They lock eyes for a long moment and Cosima feels fresh tears at the back of her eyes. Her world’s been rocked too often in the past few days, and despite the still-stinging betrayal, Delphine’s presence is grounding, comforting. Delphine looks up at Sarah, face becoming more animated. “And—and I have some leads. I don’t know much; Leekie was careful to keep things secure, but I have some names of researchers and institutions that might be worth looking into. I can leave them with you, and Cosima and I can go do some digging in person.” 

Sarah’s nodding, that manic light still in her eyes, like she’s drowning and thrashing toward the surface with the last of her strength. “Yeah. Good, yeah. That’s something. We need knowledge to gain the advantage, the more we can find out the better.” 

“We need to get ahold of Alison,” Cosima points out. 

“Leave that to me,” Sarah says firmly, and Cosima is relieved to see a bit of rigidity returning to her shoulders. “When can you leave?”

Cosima glances at Delphine, down at their entwined hands, and finally back to Sarah, her own spine straightening. “Tonight.”

~~~

The Atlantic stretches out below them, colorless and vast and deceptively still. Cosima shivers, pulling the shade down on the window and clutching her coat more tightly around her shoulders. They’re only three hours into the flight but she feels like she’s been groundless for years.

Delphine’s in the seat next to her, face shaded with worry even as she sleeps. Cosima leans toward her to feel the solidity of Delphine’s shoulder against hers, and turns up the music on her iPod to further drown out the roaring drone of the engines. She can feel Delphine sigh in her sleep, and all at once she is horrendously grateful that she doesn’t have to do this alone, even if a small voice at the back of her head is still questioning Delphine’s every action and checking every word she speaks for sincerity. Cosima’s doing her best to shove aside the lingering hurt and doubt and just let herself enjoy the company of the woman she is already stupidly, wonderfully, far too deeply in love with.

Anyway, it’s convenient. Delphine knows her way around London much more than Cosima does, having traveled there often as a child and when she was going to university in Marseille, and they’re even going to stay with one of Delphine’s friends who is living in the city now. 

Cosima’s only been to London once before on a weeklong trip with her parents to attend to the wedding of her father’s cousin. The city had left her breathless, the intricacy of the timeworn streets and the nearly tangible history in the stones of the buildings a far cry from the cookie-cutter suburb where she’d lived her whole life. She remembers the view from the top of the Eye making her ten-year-old brain buzz with terror and excitement, her small hands pressed to the cold glass as she listened to the city’s heartbeat below her. She can’t help but be a bit excited that nearly all of Delphine’s leads are researchers at various institutions in the U.K., although she knows that this trip is much more an exodus than a vacation. 

Her stomach drops as turbulence causes the plane to sway like a toy being batted by a cat. She has the urge to check her bag to make sure her wallet and the file with all the important documents are accounted for, but she knows they’re there: the fake ID and credit cards she’d been carrying with her since shit started to really go down, the substantial pile of hundreds Sarah had given them to avoid leaving as much of a paper trail as possible, and most importantly the birth certificates and all of Cosima’s research, both on her laptop and backed up on an external. 

They’re as prepared as they can be under the circumstances, which is to say she feels like they’ve been thrown into the cold Atlantic below them with the makings of a raft but no tools to put it together. Cosima rubs at her eyes under her glasses, wishing she could just fall asleep like all the passengers around her, and clutches at the armrests as the plane once again shudders beneath her.


	2. the space between them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief, not very graphic sex scene in the first part of this chapter that might make some readers uncomfortable due to the fact that a character hasn't yet come to the realization that she's asexual, so there's a bit of what I can only describe as unintentional dubious consent. If you have any concerns, please message me and I can discuss it with you further. If you want to skip the sex scene and move onto the next section (indicated by the tilda ~) you won't really be missing anything that won't be gone into later.

By the time their cab finally reaches the small flat outside of Chelsea, Cosima hasn’t slept in twenty-two hours. The young woman who answers the door shrieks, hugging Delphine tightly and kissing her cheeks before pulling them both inside. She introduces herself to Cosima as Estelle.

Cosima stands in the foyer half swaying with exhaustion and jetlag while the rapid French of Delphine and Estelle’s conversation washes over her in soft waves. She barely registers Delphine leading her down the hall and pulling off her boots before settling her beneath the blankets of the bed, and so when she wakes hours later, she’s momentarily lost. The dark shapes in the room are unfamiliar, and it’s only when Cosima turns over and makes out Delphine curled in sleep next to her that she remembers that she’s in an entirely different country. 

The reality of their situation comes crashing back down out of the weightlessness of sleep, and Cosima swallows past a dry throat. She reaches out to brush a stray hair behind Delphine’s ear, needing the contact, and Delphine stirs, her eyes blinking open in the dim light from the window.

“Sorry,” Cosima whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” Delphine says softly. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she lies. Her lungs have been rubbed with steel wool; it’s painful to breathe. “No. I’m—my chest hurts.” 

Delphine smoothes warm fingers over Cosima’s cheek, and it’s like taking a drink of hot chocolate, the way she warms up inside. “We’re going to the hospital to get some tests done tomorrow, okay?”

Cosima doesn’t protest, although nausea knots her stomach. “What time is it now?”

“Late.” 

“We should probably get more sleep,” Cosima says quietly, but her eyes are on the curve of Delphine’s lips, pink and pale even the darkness of the room, and she finds herself leaning forward to hesitantly press her mouth to Delphine’s. It’s only the second time they’ve kissed since everything happened, and Cosima wants to erase the lingering rawness of the hurt, wants to drink Delphine in and trust the sincerity in her touch. Delphine sighs against Cosima’s mouth and Cosima deepens the kiss, the tip of her tongue finding Delphine’s, the giddiness of want overwhelming the fear and uncertainty of the past few days like clouds being dissolved by sunlight. 

Kissing Delphine is like holding a pearl. Cosima cradles her delicate jawline with one hand, lets her other hand slide beneath the covers to rest along the curve of her hip. Her hand moves from Delphine’s cheek to tangle gently in her hair and she pulls away from Delphine’s mouth, kissing along her jaw, down the slope of her neck. The only other times they’ve had sex, Delphine has seemed to prefer Cosima taking the lead, and whether that’s due to inexperience or natural tendency, Cosima certainly doesn’t mind. This time is no different; Delphine tilts her head back and leans into Cosima’s touch, and it’s not until Cosima whispers, “Touch my back?” against her collarbone that Delphine’s hands flutter lightly against Cosima’s shoulder and spine. 

Her skin tastes like fresh dew and oak, her natural scent still flushed with the warmth of sleep, and Cosima wants to put her mouth on every inch of Delphine she can reach. She pushes up onto her knees and slides down the length of Delphine’s torso, kissing the warm curve of her breast and pushing up her tank top to brush more kisses against her lower belly. Delphine is quiet, but her breath is speeding up, and Cosima smiles against her skin. Her own body is humming with arousal, thighs shaking slightly as she pushes herself down farther until she’s settled between Delphine’s thighs, face close to the band of her underwear. 

She’s only gone down on Delphine once before, and Delphine had been quiet throughout, eyes pressed shut and hands fisted in the covers. Cosima had enjoyed herself immensely, and assumed Delphine had too, although Delphine had looked nervous when she told Cosima she didn’t think she’d be able to orgasm. Cosima had kissed her thigh and told her that of course it was fine, that wasn’t the point, Cosima just wanted to make her feel good. 

This time Cosima is determined to find out what makes Delphine tick, what tricks and rhythms will make her breath hitch and her back arch off the bed, and it’s with eagerness that she slides her fingers under the edges of Delphine’s underwear to start pulling them down. “Is this alright?” she asks, wanting to check in, because making sure Delphine is comfortable is important to her. After all, Delphine's still new to sex with a woman. 

It’s only because Cosima is watching Delphine closely that she sees the hesitation. Her face only shifts for a brief second before she’s nodding, but it’s long enough for Cosima to catch—a slight shadowing of her eyes, a twist to her mouth that almost looks like a reaction to pain—or like she's steeling herself against more pain. 

Cosima sits up abruptly, moving to lie back down next to Delphine and resting a hand on her stomach hesitantly. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t want to do this right now. I just thought it might be nice.” 

“No!” Delphine looks like she’s broken something precious to her, and she turns onto her side to face Cosima more fully, hand nervously running over Cosima’s shoulder. “I—you want to, yes? So I—”

“I want to, yes,” Cosima says gently, heart heavy with the way Delphine is tripping over her own words. “But only if you want to as well. Delphine. It’s fine.” She tilts her head, moves her hand to lift Delphine’s chin slightly so she can look into her eyes. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Delphine looks like she might cry and briefly Cosima remembers her admission from their first time. Cosima frowns, about to repeat her question, but Delphine shakes her head and then is abruptly kissing Cosima in a way that’s almost angry, teeth catching her lip and making her hesitate to return the kiss out of surprise. Then Delphine is rolling on top of Cosima, running hands that might be shaking slightly over her arms, chest, stomach. She pulls away, panting, long enough for Cosima to get out the breathless first syllable of her name before Delphine is kissing her again, fingers running down between Cosima’s legs and brushing her clit through her underwear. 

Cosima’s body rocks with sensation and her hips cant upward against Delphine’s hand, her senses deafeningly loud with the amount that she wants this, Delphine’s sudden roughness and intensity completely derailing the worries about her reluctance. 

Delphine’s fingers are suddenly hooking beneath the band of Cosima’s underwear and rubbing gently and firmly against her skin and Cosima breathes in sharply and moans into Delphine’s mouth, and Delphine is still biting and sucking at Cosima’s lips and Cosima briefly thinks about how swollen they’ll be tomorrow and then the twitching of Delphine’s fingers over her makes her forget everything else.

Cosima’s always been very sensitive, but she’s shocked at how little time it takes before she’s bucking into Delphine’s touch, breaking away from the kiss to breathe fast and hard as she comes, trying to be quiet, muscles shuddering and tensing over and over again. It takes a minute for her to catch her breath as Delphine rolls off of her and curls against her, fingers stroking her stomach.

“ _Jesus_ , Del,” Cosima breathes, half-laughing, and cups her hand around the back of Delphine’s neck. “That was—unexpected.” 

Delphine is quiet for almost too long, and when she looks up, she doesn’t meet Cosima’s eyes. She smiles and kisses Cosima’s shoulder. “Good, though?”

The tingles of pleasure are fading away and returning Cosima’s senses to the fact that something seems wrong. “Very good. Are you okay?”

“Just fine,” Delphine whispers, and settles her head against Cosima’s chest, arm draped over her waist. “Go back to sleep.” 

Delphine’s breathing evens out quickly and Cosima is lulled enough to let sleep fold around her as well. Just before she drifts off, the wetness of tears seeping through her shirt registers in her consciousness, but she’s too far gone to wonder what she’s missing.

~

_Sarah,_

_No luck with the first researcher on Del’s list. She was a biology professor at UCL, but her colleagues say she moved to Budapest six months ago. Tomorrow we’re going to try a doctor who works with the MRC. I’m still nervous about raising suspicion, especially if any of these researchers ends up being someone close to Dr. L. But I guess we don’t have a lot left to lose, right?_

_I hope you’re doing the best you can be doing, under the circumstances. Let me know if you get any news about Kira or if you were able to get through to Alison. Write back when you can, okay?_

_-C & D_

Cosima hits ‘send’ and leans back against the sofa with a sigh. The bandage on her arm both itches and aches (her veins always seem to be impossible for doctors to find), and her head’s been pounding half the day. After being poked with needles and X-rayed and feeling the low burn of fear charring her lungs with every breath, and then coming up empty handed at the university, Cosima’s exhaustion seems to reach through her bones and into her very core. She pulls up the file with the DNA sequences to look at them again, needing something to do with herself. 

The door to the kitchen swings open, setting free the rich, heavy scent of curry and the dreamy sounds of Etta James crooning from Estelle’s radio. Delphine emerges, tired eyes but relaxed posture, moving to lean against the arm of the sofa at Cosima’s side. “Dinner’s ready. You feel up to eating?” Cosima nods, and Delphine reaches out to run her fingers over the tight braids at the crown of her head. It almost tickles. “Wine? Estelle doesn’t drink, but I picked up a bottle for us when I walked to the market earlier.”

Cosima grins at her, leaning her head into Delphine’s warm hand. “Always wine. You know me.” 

“I’ve already poured it!” A voice calls. Cosima looks over to see Estelle leaning out of the kitchen, the vivid gold of her hijab contrasting beautifully with her skin. She shakes a wooden spoon at them. “Come here, _mes tourtereaux_ , let me feed you.” She disappears, and Delphine covers a smile with her hand.

“What did she call us?” Cosima asks, but she thinks she has an idea from the way Delphine is blushing. 

~

An hour later, Cosima’s belly is comfortably full with curried vegetables and rice, her muscles warm and relaxed with laughter and wine, and her mind eased by the soft candlelight and the feel of Delphine’s leg pressing against hers under the table. 

Estelle is finishing a story that has Delphine’s face hidden in her hands and Cosima grinning so wide her face hurts. “And what do you think Delphie did then?” 

“Noooo,” Delphine groans, peeking through her fingers at Estelle. 

“What? What’d you do?” Cosima goads, throwing an arm around Delphine and pulling her hands away from her face.

“She got right up on that table in the middle of the wine bar and sang her _heart_ out, of course,” Estelle says, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. 

Cosima’s laughing at the image as Delphine buries her face against her shoulder. “Oh no. What did she sing?”

Estelle leans in conspiratorially. “ _My Heart Will Go On_.”

Cosima giggles until she snorts, and then all three of them are laughing heartily, and Cosima feels the lightest she has in days. “Oh, Delphine. When do I get to meet this caterwauling Celine-Dion-tribute version of you?” 

“We were first years!” Delphine groans, throwing a balled-up napkin in Estelle’s direction. “No one should be held responsible for the decisions they make their first year at university.” 

A dozen visions of far too many idiotic nights early on in college come to mind, and Cosima stifles another laugh. “I’ll drink to that,” she says dryly, and tips back the rest of her wine. 

The three of them settle into comfortable silence. Delphine is half-smiling, gazing at her empty plate and leisurely tracing the rim of her wine glass with one finger, and Estelle is watching her thoughtfully, fingers laced under her chin. She catches Cosima looking at her and for a long moment they make eye contact. Cosima has the distinct feeling she’s being weighed carefully, and straightens up a little in her chair. 

“Now,” Estelle says slowly, and the sudden gravity of her tone makes Delphine look up quickly. “I know it’s not my business, but we’ve been friends for a long time, _mon_ Delphie, and I worry.” She reaches out, offering each of them a hand, and after a moment Cosima lets her fingers curl against the waiting palm. “You two show up here last night looking ragged, like you’ve just caught sight of the big dog chasing your tails and have been trying to outrace him. And today you run off to destinations unknown and come back with disappointed eyes and tired shoulders. You’re not just on holiday, or here on business, are you?” She squeezes their hands and Cosima licks her lips nervously. “Are you two in trouble?”

Cosima glances at Delphine. There’s a hard stitch between her eyebrows and her eyes are flickering from Estelle’s face to the hand held in hers. “In…a manner of speaking.” She digs pearl colored teeth into her bottom lip, then offers Estelle a smile that reminds Cosima of a nervous child. “Please, 'Stelle, don’t worry. We’ll be just fine.” 

“The less you know, the better,” Cosima offers apologetically. Estelle is quiet, eyes still on Delphine and shining with concern. Sensing that the two of them might want some time alone, Cosima eases her hand away from Estelle’s and stands, collecting plates from the table. “I’ve got the dishes. Only fair, since you two did the cooking.”

~

It’s two hours later when Delphine finally lets herself quietly into the bedroom. Cosima had been about to put her laptop away and turn off the light—it’s early, but she’s still jetlagged and exhausted from their day—and so she closes the computer and pats the bed next to her. Delphine barely seems to notice her, concentration turned inward as she changes out of her dress and into a loose t-shirt. When she gets into bed, Cosima notices a hint of moisture in the corners of her eyes. “Hey there. Did you guys have a good talk?”

Delphine settles down next to Cosima, body turned toward her beneath the covers. Cosima reaches out a hand to tuck Delphine’s hair behind her ear, letting her fingers linger in the golden strands. Delphine closes her eyes and lets out a long breath. “We talked about many things.” She sounds distant, troubled, like the quiet rumble of thunder miles away. 

Cosima waits patiently; Delphine seems like she’s on the verge of saying more, words practically peeking out from behind her pursed lips—but instead she sighs and leans forward to press a gentle kiss against Cosima’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Cosima frowns, studying the clouds in Delphine’s eyes. “Well enough. I haven’t been coughing too much—” She’s interrupted by a loud yawn that transforms into a laugh. “I’m pretty tired.”

“Me too,” Delphine smiles, and leans across her to turn off the light. They curl around each other in the dark, Cosima’s nose buried in the crook of Delphine’s neck, and Cosima lets herself feel safe.

~

The MCR is a bust. Unsurprisingly, it’s not very easy to get around the security of one of London’s top medical research facilities, so even with a few carefully dropped names and Cosima and Delphine’s best acting, they’re unable to see the doctor Delphine knew about, or even to find out if he was still working for the institute. They’re caught in a sudden downpour of rain as they’re walking back to the tube station, and duck into a tiny café to escape the damp. Despite the disappointment of their non-discovery, the café is warm and comforting and the tea top notch, and they sit at a table in the corner by the window and watch the rain pound down on the pavement and the pedestrians outside.

“Where’s the next lead?” Cosima asks, spreading clotted cream and jam on a warm scone. 

Delphine absently traces her finger around the rim of her steaming cup of Earl Grey. “They’re hardly leads,” she says softly, watching the rain stream down the window. “All I have is a handful of names of people that _might_ have been involved with some of the original research.” She’s as frustrated-sounding as Cosima’s ever heard her, and Cosima lays light fingers against her wrist. 

“It’s still _something_ , Del. And at least we’re out from right under their noses, you know? Even if we don’t really find anything, that’s good enough for me.” Cosima’s fingers trace the veins on the inside of Delphine’s wrist. “And I’ve got the sequences, and those files you were able to grab, and all the other information we’ve managed to gain so far on my hard drive. I’m going to keep looking until I find something. But until then, we might as well look into what we can while we’re here.”

Delphine’s wrist slowly pulls away from Cosima’s grasp, and she lifts the tea to her mouth, taking a slow sip and closing her eyes. When she opens them again, she’s looking directly at Cosima with fresh determination. “There are two researchers that were working at the University of Edinburgh. They might still be.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland.” Cosima grins and takes a bite of her scone, chewing thoughtfully, and then closing her eyes in bliss as the flavor hits her. “Oh my god, you have to try this,” she says around the food in her mouth, and it’s worth the affronted look the elderly woman at the table next to them gives her for the way Delphine’s eyes crinkle when she laughs.

That night, Cosima and Delphine and Estelle sprawl together on the sofa eating gelato and watching Doctor Who reruns on BBC. Estelle and Cosima argue heatedly about the merits of Nine versus Ten, both agreeing that while Matt Smith is lovely he doesn’t hold a candle to David or Chris, while Delphine half-heartedly shushes them, trying to follow the complexities of the plot. Cosima sinks into the feeling of comfort the evening brings, and that night when she kisses Delphine goodnight their lips both taste like chocolate.


End file.
